


Ding Dong Ditch

by alyciaclebnam



Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-03-06 07:23:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3125951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyciaclebnam/pseuds/alyciaclebnam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Camila is caught ding-dong-ditching. Her supposed victim, Lauren, is extremely displeased. Camila tries to apologise, but Lauren refuses to listen. So Camila apologises, and apologises, and apologises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ding Dong Ditch

Camila hates her friends.

Well, no, she actually loves them to bits – when they’re not stealing all her Ritz crackers or talking her ear off about Beyoncé or not _not_ laughing at her jokes (which are totally funny, by the way) – but she hates them right _now_.

Dinah and Normani have dragged her out of her bedroom, demanding that she join them for a night of fun instead of being nose deep in some novel ‘like a dweeb’ (Dinah’s words, not hers).

People apparently still consider ding-dong-ditching to be fun, because that’s what Camila has been coerced into doing.

She watches with a wrinkled nose as Dinah and Normani scurry off to the next house to ring the doorbell. They soon return to her, hidden in the shadows of a car parked down the street, cackling with glee.

“Guys, isn’t this a little… I don’t know… _immature_?” Camila asks pointedly, breaking up their laugh fest. “We’re 17, for God’s sake.”

Dinah immediately sobers and gives her a blunt look. Normani tells her that she’s ruining the fun.

“Be a teenager for once, Mila! If we don’t get all this stuff out of the way while we’re young, we won’t have any good stories to tell our grandkids!”

Camila reasons that Normani _does_ have a point. But she isn’t going to give in that easily. She still has her reservations, after all.

(Her reservations go flying out the window when Dinah says that the next place they’ll hit up is Cold Stone, and the bill is on her.)

***

Camila walks up the path hesitantly. Does she really want to do this?

She knows it’ll make for a decent story to prove that she was _actually_ a teenager and did teenager-y things once upon a time, but will it be worth it? She knows that she herself would _hate_ to be on the receiving end of a ding-dong-ditch.

The devils on her shoulder – who weren’t even devils, but rather a miniature version of Normani and Dinah – whisper for her to do it anyway. _You’re only young once_ , they tell her.

 _Do it for Cold Stone_ , Camila tells herself.

She stands on the porch for a full thirty seconds before pressing the doorbell. She then spins on her heel, intending to take cover behind the towering oak tree in the poor unfortunate soul’s front yard.

That’s when she runs headlong into a solid 5’4” mass with hostile emerald eyes.

“Uh- I was- I mean, I’m not-” Camila stutters, knowing full well that she’s been caught.

She glances around nervously for Dinah and Normani, but her friends have long since fled the scene of the crime. Naturally.

“You’re _not_ ding-dong-ditching my house?” Angry Green Eyes continues sarcastically. “Sure. How old are you, like twelve? Who still _does_ this kind of thing? Are you an imbecile? I mean…”

“My- my friends-” Camila tries to interrupt, but Angry Green Eyes won’t have it.

“… Have you any idea how _idiotic_ you look right now? You people are so…”

The girl hasn’t got much to go on though, so her speech mostly consists of generic verbal abuse. Camila concludes that she’ll just have to ride out her tirade.

(She isn’t dismayed by Angry Green Eyes’ rant, since every third word is practically synonymous. She grows bored after the fourth or fifth insult.)

Angry Green Eyes apparently doesn’t like that Camila remains unfazed.

“ _God_ , you people are so annoying! Just stay away from my house, okay?”

Camila salutes her. If Angry Green Eyes knew her at all, she’d have known that it was a sincere action – a majorly dorky action, but a sincere action nonetheless.

But Angry Green Eyes doesn’t know her, so she just gives an exasperated huff before stepping around Camila and disappearing behind her front door.

***

Camila comes home to find Normani and Dinah casually tearing apart her DVD cabinet on the hunt for a decent movie to watch. Camila whines and grumbles while they do so, relaying the story of Angry Green Eyes and venting her frustration over being dragged out of bed just to get yelled at.

Dinah shrugs unsympathetically as she rummages around in the cabinet. “You shouldn’t have caved so easy.”

“Gotta find that willpower, girl,” Normani says with a small smile.

Camila rolls her eyes. Trust Normani and Dinah to somehow turn her misery into a life lesson.

“Speaking of power,” Dinah pulls her head out of the cabinet and waves a DVD case around questioningly. “ _Austin Powers in Goldmember_ , anybody?”

***

The guilt grows steadily heavy on Camila’s shoulders throughout the night.

She can’t get over how genuinely _annoyed_ Angry Green Eyes was over the ding-dong-ditch incident. She begins to hate herself for riling the girl up so much.

As her eyes droop and she unconsciously leans into Normani’s side during yet another Beyoncé-featured movie, Camila resolves to return to Angry Green Eyes’ house in the morning and apologise properly.

It’s a mark of how truly guilty she feels that she forgets how Dinah promised to buy her Cold Stone for doing the ding-dong-ditch in the first place.

***

When Camila presses the bell the next morning, the door only opens for three seconds before she’s met with a face full of mahogany.

She faintly recognises Angry Green Eyes’ voice on the other side. She doesn’t understand anything but the muffled ‘go away’ at the end of what was probably another rant.

Undeterred, Camila shouts her apology through the wood instead of face-to-face, like she’d planned.

 _Just you wait, Angry Green Eyes_ , Camila thinks resolutely.

The guilt still weighed heavily on her mind.

She was going to make the green-eyed girl listen to her apology if it was the last thing she did.

***

Camila returns the next morning with a plate of sugar cookies – seven are iced with the letters I-M-S-O-R-R-Y and an eighth with a smiley face – and places them gently on the welcome mat. She presses the doorbell and hides behind the oak tree in the front yard.

A minute passes. Then two. Then thirty more.

Camila knows that someone is home because she saw the bottom corner of the curtain in the front window move to hide a pair of eyes.

When a whole sixty minutes flies by, and there is no sign of anyone coming outside to retrieve her apology cookies, Camila sighs.

She decides to leave them and check back tomorrow.

***

Camila returns to find a clean plate and a note that reads ‘ _I don’t care if it comes with apology food the second time around – you can’t apologise for ding-dong-ditching by ding-dong-ditching again. Did you honestly think you could win me over with cookies? P.S. You’re not forgiven yet, even though the cookies were nice. Do you have your own recipe? If so, I may need it._ ’

She latches onto the ‘yet’ in the postscript, scrabbling for a pen in her messenger bag and writing ‘ _Not YET, hey? I’ll get you one day’_ on the back of the note.

She pauses for a moment before adding her own postscript: ‘ _P.S. I don’t know how to bake. I bought the cookies from Walmart. P.P.S. The icing was store bought too.’_

Camila folds the note and tucks it under the corner of the welcome mat.

She walks home with a satisfied smile.

***

After the success of the sugar cookies, Camila tries an assortment of apology gifts. Angry Green Eyes never opens the door while she’s dropping off her offerings, but there is always a note tucked under the welcome mat for her to read when she returns the next day.

She learns that Angry Green Eyes doesn’t really like chocolate, and much prefers flowers – daisies, to be exact (Camila had tried giving her purple hyacinths because she read that they symbolised apologies, but the girl responded with a note saying that she favoured the white-and-yellow flower. The note also said that she was annoying, but Camila liked to glaze over that part).

She also learns that, even though Angry Green Eyes doesn’t like chocolate, she would happily accept a Nutella smoothie because – quote – “Nutella is a hazelnut spread _._ It is _not_ chocolate.”

Camila was tempted to scrawl a reply with the percentage of cocoa powder (and thus _chocolate_ ) in the spread, but she figured that it would only hurt her plight.

***

Camila returns to the now-familiar front porch a week later, sans gift. She’s kind of running low on ideas for apology offerings, so she’s decided to try a verbal apology once again.

The doorbell echoes. She doesn’t really expect an answer, seeing as Angry Green Eyes hasn’t opened the door once – not since the morning after the failed ding-dong-ditch anyway.

So Camila is understandably stunned when the door opens seconds after she’s rung the bell.

She’s greeted by a girl not much younger than herself. From the striking green eyes and the similar facial structure, Camila concludes that this is Angry Green Eyes’ sister. Or possibly her daughter.

(She’s hoping it’s her sister.)

“Are you Lauren’s friend?”

Camila squints one eye. “Um… Lauren?”

“ _Yeah_ , Lauren… my sister?” The girl looks at her weirdly. “You’re her friend, right?”

“Friend?” Camila is aware that she’s just dumbly repeating the girl’s words back to her, but this is the most human interaction she’s had on this front porch since the night she met Angry Green Eyes, or Lauren, as she’s apparently named. “Yes! I am. Her friend, I mean. I’m Lauren’s friend. Mmhmm.”

“Okay…”

The girl is still looking at her weirdly, so Camila tells herself to chill.

“… Anyway, Lauren said that you might come over today and she told me to tell you that she’s at work, that you’re annoying and that you should, um, _go away_ ,” The girl offers an awkward smile as she relays her sister’s words. “What’s with that, by the way? I know Lauren can be a bitch sometimes, but she’s never told me to tell her friends off at the door. Are you two in a really bad fight or something?”

Camila hums thoughtfully. “Or something.”

“… Right.”

“Could you tell her that I stopped by?” Camila asks her. “I mean, she probably won’t care, but could you still tell her for me?”

“Sure.”

The door closes and Camila is left alone on the porch again, like usual. She gets halfway down the path before an idea strikes her harder than the Titanic hit the iceberg.

The doorbell dings and Camila impatiently listens to the echo.

Lauren’s sister opens the door again. Camila smiles.

“Would you mind telling me where Lauren works?”

***

Lauren works at a local bookstore, which Camila promptly drives to (after returning to her house and picking up her car).

She steps through the door and into the air-conditioned space, taking in the floor-to-ceiling shelves and the various display cases with first editions and special trinkets. She vaguely wonders how she’d never come across this place before – it was magical.

She spots Lauren a little ways away from the counter and snatches up the nearest book, just in case the girl decides to ignore her. If worst comes to worst, they’ll have a legitimate excuse to talk.

Camila dings the silver bell at the counter and watches Lauren hurriedly turn around to attend to her ‘customer’.

The green-eyed girl launches into the typical retail-worker greeting, until she meets Camila’s eyes and stops mid-sentence.

“What are you doing here?”

“You told your sister to tell me to go away.”

Lauren raises an eyebrow. “And yet you’re still here. Do you not know how to follow a simple instruction?”

“I ding-donged this bell here but I haven’t ditched yet,” Camila says reasonably, tapping the silver bell on the counter. “Compared to how I was when we first met, I’d say that’s progress, right?”

Lauren closes her eyes and releases an exasperated sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

“Sorry,” Camila says airily, not sounding apologetic at all. “But I gotta do what I gotta do, Lauren. You haven’t forgiven me yet, so I’m gonna have to pester you until you do.”

Lauren seems to miss the point of Camila’s whole speech.

“How do you know my name?” She asks suspiciously.

“Aside from the fact that you’re wearing a nametag?” Camila giggles when Lauren glances down at the ‘LAUREN J.’ displayed in bold below her collar. “Your sister told me.”

Lauren rolls her eyes. Camila can’t help but be endeared by the faint pink spots on the apples of her cheeks.

“Taylor is so _stupid_.”

“Hey, don’t be mean,” Camila scolds with a frown. “She didn’t know not to tell me.”

Lauren’s expression is impassive, but Camila senses her contrition in her loosened stance and softened eyes.

“And while we’re talking about your lovely sister,” Camila continues, not wishing for Lauren to feel any worse. “She said something that made me think…”

She trails off to build up the suspense and sure enough, Lauren snaps.

“Get on with it, please. Unlike _some_ people, I have a job to get back to.”

Camila chuckles to herself at the expected reaction. “You know as well as I do that I’m the only customer in the store right now.”

It’s true. No one has bothered them the entire time that Camila has been there, despite the fact that Lauren appears to be the only one working. The bookstore is silent save for their conversation.

Lauren snatches away the book that Camila forgot she was holding.

“… Shut up. Are you buying this?”

The green-eyed girl doesn’t even wait for an answer, simply rings the book up and demands payment. Camila doesn’t mind spending more money than she already has on the angry girl, and simply continues talking as she counts out the appropriate amount of cash.

“ _Anyway_ , Taylorcalled me your friend. She said that you said that I’m your _friend_.”

“We’re not friends,” Lauren corrects hurriedly, seizing Camila’s money and averting her eyes to the till. “You’re annoying.”

With her evasive gaze, Camila doesn’t quite believe her. But rather than contest Lauren’s words, she dutifully follows the conversation wherever the other girl is trying to steer it. She sighs dramatically.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

She expects Lauren to launch into another one of her synonymous diatribes, so she’s surprised to be met with a smirk.

Lauren hands her her purchase, eyes twinkling. “I bet you’ll have fun reading about BDSM.”

“What?” Camila asks dumbly.

Lauren nods to the book in her hands. The words _Fifty Shades_ peek out from beneath her thumbs.

“Oh.”

The heat in her cheeks won’t die down, but Camila can see the laughter in Lauren’s eyes and that makes the embarrassment worth every second.

***

Camila heads over to Lauren’s place the next day (to apologise, or whatever it is she does nowadays) and Lauren’s sister greets her once again.

“She’s at work,” Taylor says. “Told me to tell you the same thing she said yesterday, and this time she means it.”

So, naturally, Camila heads straight to the bookstore. Because when has she ever _actually_ listened to Lauren?

Lauren is rearranging book displays when Camila walks in. She doesn’t spare Camila a glance and merely continues working.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to talk to strangers?” Lauren asks eventually.

“Don’t be so harsh. You said so yourself – we’re _friends_!” Camila responds brightly.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I’ve ever given the impression that we were anything more than strangers,” Lauren says bluntly, moving onto the next book display.

Camila follows with a hum. “Let me know when you _actually_ believe that. Besides, it’s not like you’ve ever told me to go away.”

Lauren snorts and almost knocks over a perfectly straightened pile of books. “I’ve told you to go away literally _every_ day since your failed ding-dong-ditch.”

“But you don’t really mean it, do you?” Camila rebuts knowingly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be here having this conversation with you.”

“… Has anybody ever told you that you’re annoying?”

“Only my best friends,” Camila grins proudly. She enjoys watching Lauren falter. “And you, every day since we first met. But you don’t really mean that either, do you?”

Lauren continues to rearrange books quietly, but her silence speaks volumes. Camila smiles at the crack that she’s finally made in the girl’s tough exterior.

“What’d you do with the book you bought yesterday?” Lauren finally asks, breaking the silence.

Camila shrugs. “Tossed it into the fireplace before my parents could find it.”

Lauren rounds on her with a look of scepticism. “It’s the middle of July. And we’re in goddamn Miami – why the _hell_ does your house have a fireplace?”

Camila shrugs again.

***

They continue like that – Camila turns up at Lauren’s place to apologise, and Lauren sometimes lets her.

(Lauren never opens the door, of course, but Camila knows that she’s standing there on the other side, listening to every word.)

Other times, Lauren is at work, and Camila joins her there.

(Lauren’s boss, Ally, had become so used to Camila’s presence at the bookstore, she even offered her a job. Lauren rejected the offer on her behalf.)

Camila likes those days best, the ones spent at the bookstore. She gets to actually see Lauren’s face as she apologises (even though most of the time it’s just a string of ‘sorry’s that repeat themselves until Camila is tongue-tied or out of breath). Lauren remains expressionless most of the time, but Camila spots the occasional quirk of her lips that indicates her amusement.

Camila is relaying all of this to Normani and Dinah as they complete a quiz on her laptop. It’s titled ‘ _How Well Do You Know Beyoncé?’_ and Camila is pretty sure that they’ve already taken this quiz twice before.

“Why can’t you just let it go?” Normani asks distractedly. She’s staring at the screen determinedly.

Camila tells them that she’s so close to gaining Lauren’s forgiveness, and that Lauren’s walls are slowly coming down. She’s come so far already – where’s the sense in giving up now? She adds that she likes spending time with Lauren too, even if the girl doesn’t say much – nothing _pleasant_ , anyway.

“Sounds like somebody’s in _love_ ,” Dinah teases, fingers gliding along the touch pad of Camila’s laptop and clicking at something.

Normani slaps her hand when she accidentally answers a question wrong during her moment of cheek.

“Dinah! Bey won _six_ Grammys in 2010, not seven. Get yo life, girl.”

“Hoi, not my fault! I was just tryna give Mila some solid counselling…”

Camila sighs and reclines onto her bed, trying not to think about the possible truth in Dinah’s words.

***

She heads to Lauren’s place one morning – honestly, waking up and making her way there has become a sort of routine – and is surprised to see the front door wide open. She steps inside cautiously, calling out for Lauren.

Lauren’s voice rings out from nearby. Camila follows it into the kitchen and finds the girl sitting on a stool at the kitchen island with two plates of pancakes.

Camila shoots her a quizzical look. Lauren ignores it, as per usual.

“Did you close the door behind you?” Lauren asks instead.

Camila pauses just before her butt hits the seat beside Lauren’s. She backtracks down the hall and returns with a sheepish smile.

“Figured I should start paying you back for the stuff you’ve given me. Buying all of it can’t have been cheap,” Lauren speaks in the detached way that Camila has become used to, but she notes that it lacks the harshness that it once held.

“Does that mean you forgive me?” Camila asks hopefully, hopping up onto the stool next to her.

“No.”

Lauren’s answer is blunt, like always. But Camila can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of the girl’s mouth, so she just plays along.

“Didn’t think so.” Camila responds cheekily, taking hold of the maple syrup and promptly drenching her pancakes.

Lauren makes a face at the syrup bath that her pancakes are drowning in. Camila stifles a giggle and tries not to think about how she wouldn’t mind doing this every day for the rest of her life.

***

Sometimes they have breakfast at Lauren’s house, and sometimes they have lunch at Lauren’s work. Other times, they just sit on Lauren’s front porch and talk.

(Well, Camila talks, mostly. Lauren generally just listens and interjects.)

Camila feels the telltale fluttering in her stomach but she doesn’t know what to do with it, so she ignores it for now.

***

Their act becomes so routine, Camila is genuinely at a loss for what to do when she arrives at Lauren’s house one day and no one is home.

She drives to the bookstore, where Ally tells her that Lauren isn’t working a shift that day.

She drives back to Lauren’s house and rings the doorbell, knocks thrice for good measure.

She even peers into the backyard, where she is greeted by bright canine eyes and a lolling tongue.

But Lauren is nowhere to be found.

Dejected, Camila tears a page from her notebook and writes her own address down. She folds the paper and tucks it under the corner of the welcome mat.

It’s not the first time she’s left a note at Lauren’s door, but it feels strangely like the last.

***

The doorbell rings while Camila is curled up on the couch watching _The Notebook_.

(She chose the movie mostly because she’s sad, but also because she’s hoping that someone out there is hiding a bunch of letters from Lauren that she never got to read. It’s an extremely ambitious desire, she knows.)

She rises with a groan and a stretch – her back pops and cracks; she’s convinced that her situation with Lauren has aged her a hundred years – and ambles to the door. But when she opens it, there’s no one there.

She sticks her head out and peers left and right, but there is no one in sight. It’s then that she looks down and sees ‘I’M SORRY’ in colourful icing.

Camila picks up the cookies and rushes to the kitchen to drop them on the counter, before hastily running back outside and calling Lauren’s name out into the night.

“Lauren! LAUREN! LAAAUREEE-”

She hears the slam of a car door and whips her head to the vehicle parked on the street, halfway between her house and the one next door.

Lauren is standing there with a displeased look on her face. She trudges across the lawn and comes to a stop in front of Camila, who greets her with a sheepish smile.

“I was being too loud, wasn’t I? I’m sorry.” Camila apologises. It’s a reflex now. “Sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry-”

Lauren rolls her eyes and cuts her off. “Did you _not_ see the apology cookies? You’re stealing my thunder.”

“Oops. Zipping my lips. Sorry.”

Camila then apologises for apologising _again_ , and Lauren rolls her eyes so hard, Camila genuinely fears that they might get stuck in the back of her head.

***

They sit together on Camila’s couch, watching the rest of _The Notebook_. Lauren seems pretty into the movie.

That’s what Camila thinks, anyway. Her hand had been inching across the divide between them for the last ten minutes, and Lauren had yet to take notice.

Just as Camila is about to give up and pull her hand back, Lauren’s hand darts out and covers her own.

Camila smiles sweetly. Lauren’s mouth kind of turns up at the corners in a sort-of smile, and Camila laughs at the absurdity.

“Do you even know _how_ to smile?” Camila asks teasingly. “Or is your face too set in its ways? Turn that frown upside down, missy!”

Camila’s commentary only earns her an unimpressed glare. She immediately backtracks.

“Sorrysorrysorrysorry-”

She’s suddenly cut off by the press of soft lips against her own.

Camila melts into the kiss, somehow managing to slide all the way over into Lauren’s lap without breaking their connection once. Lauren pulls back when air becomes a necessity, and Camila catches the poorly hidden smile on her rosy lips.

“There she is,” Camila says softly, reaching up to trace the edges of Lauren’s mouth with her thumb. Lauren lets her.

They sit like that for a while; simply admiring each other while the movie plays on in the background. Camila is the first one to break the silence.

“So do you forgive me now?”

Lauren shrugs, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair behind Camila’s ear. “I forgave you when you gave me those cookies.”

Camila pulls back immediately, affronted. “That was the day after I ding-dong-ditched you! Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Lauren rolls her eyes and smothers her mouth with a hand. “You’re so _annoying_ , ugh. Please shut up.”

Camila sees straight through her act.

“Why don’t you make me?” She says challengingly.

Lauren’s hand is still covering her mouth though, so Camila’s words are said directly into her skin. They come out garbled and probably unintelligible, but she knows that Lauren will understand.

And she does. Lauren peels her hand away and replaces it with her lips and teeth and tongue.

Camila thinks that she’ll gladly annoy Lauren for the rest of her life if it means being kissed like this forever.

***

Camila hates her friends.

Sometimes, anyway. Thankfully, this was not one of those times.

She kind of loves them, actually, for giving her a love story she can tell her future grandchildren.

But she still feels entitled to give them a taste of their own medicine.

“You’re sure that Normani’s family isn’t home? And that it’s just Normani and Dinah there?” Lauren questions, sounding rather nervous and unlike herself.

“Of course. I triple checked, just for you,” Camila says, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Are you ready?”

Camila knows Lauren is still reluctant, but the green-eyed girl fixes a determined stare towards Normani’s front door and nods anyway. Camila falls a little more in love with her.

“3, 2, 1-”

They press the doorbell together and scamper away as it echoes through the house. When they’re halfway down the street, they hear Dinah’s indignant cry.

Their tangled hands swing between them as they run, their laughter painting the night air.


End file.
